into the cool dark forest
oils of Himalayan Cedars
the worn dirt path to the village
beside the muscle of the river
there were posters in town, photos of the latest traveller
missing, last seen, any information
did they travel with a Baba who secretly fed them Datura,
until they went mad?
who were the three unknown men?
shall I hide and wait for them to pass?
a log, fallen across the river
straddling it, bark catches my jeans
a branch sticks out
water swells beneath me
if I fall with this pack
the freezing water
Sue Peachey is a New Zealander currently living in Canberra. She is a landscape designer with a strong interest in permaculture, pottery and poetry. She has published previously in Eucalypt, Haibun Today and Kokako.